He practised his profession, he said, but with some difficulty, as the eminent Acting-Consul Williams had by law a monopoly of dentistry in the French possessions in the South Seas.  The monopoly had been certified to by the courts after a controversy between them, but his Honor Willi did not enforce the prohibition except as to Papeete, and besides was very rich, and had more patients than he could possibly attend.

At the lower end of the mats the bachelors sat,—­there were only three whites at the feast,—­and merriment had its home there.  After the first onslaught, the vintages of Bordeaux and of the Rhineland, and the brews of Munich and Milwaukee shared attention with the viands.  The head of the mats had a sedate atmosphere, because of the several preachers there, and those Tahitians ambitious to shine in a diaconal way talked seriously of the problems of the church, of future himenes, and the waywardness of those who “knew not the fear of Ietu-Kirito.”  Their indications of grief at the hardness of the heathens’ hearts grew more lively as they sipped the wine, thinking perhaps of that day when the Master and the disciples did the same at another wedding feast.

Soon their voices were drowned by the low notes of an accordion and the chanting by the bachelors of an ancient love-song of Tahiti.  Miri and Caroline and Maraa, being of Mataiea, had returned for this arearea, and were seated with the young men.  The Tahitians are charitable in their regard of very open peccadilloes, especially those animated by passion or a desire for amusement, thinking probably that were stones to be thrown only by the guiltless, there would be none to lift one; certainly no white in Tahiti.  The dithyramb of a bacchanal sounded, and the outlaw dentist was reminded of his former intimate friend, King Pomare the Fifth.

“I was a bosom chum of the king,” he said confidentially as he poured me a shell of Burgundy.  “He was much maligned.  He drank too much for his health, but so do almost all kings, from what I’ve read and seen.  Lord! what a man he was!  He’d sit around all night while the hula boomed, applauding this or that dancer, and seeing that the booze circulated.  He was a fish, that’s a fact.  He never had enough, and he could stow away a cask.  Good-hearted!  When he would go to the districts he always sent word when he had laid out his course, and after a few days in each place he would go on with his crowd.  He paid for everything except, of course, gifts of fruit and fish.  Every night there would be a big time, dancing and drinking.  Jiminy!  But times were different then.  Look at me!  I’ve lived freely all my life, and I am over forty years here, but you wouldn’t know I was past seventy.  It’s the climate and not worrying or being worried about clothes or sin.”

The bride had long since left the table, removed her shoes, and put on a Mother Hubbard gown.  She and her mother I saw having a bite together in private comfort.